


I'd kill the world for you.

by indiavolowetrust



Series: Requests / Gifts [3]
Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Gen, M/M, Other, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:21:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24998242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiavolowetrust/pseuds/indiavolowetrust
Summary: A war has broken out between all three realms after a millennium of political strife and unsuccessful acts of peace. A band of angels kidnaps you, the human, in order to use you as a bargaining chip. Satan does not take this lightly. Oneshot.
Relationships: Main Character & Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Main Character/Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Character(s), Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Female Character(s), Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Male Character(s), Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader
Series: Requests / Gifts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1817206
Comments: 6
Kudos: 124





	I'd kill the world for you.

You should be afraid. You should be scared witless, your thoughts nothing but sheer hysteria, your mind completely overtaken by fear -- and yet you are not. You cannot find it within yourself to react in such a manner, despite all logical reasoning to do so, and you cannot persuade yourself to do anything but simply stare at the massive, lumbering beast before you. You cannot help but feel relief at the image, even as the verdant flame blazes where his eyes should be. His great maw has been stained with the blue blood of the angels, your body has been all but bathed in their ichor, and you are not afraid.

The hellhound that Satan has become -- this greater, corrupted manifestation of his demon form -- stares down at you from across the room, the remains of an alabaster angel clutched within his claws. He releases the flesh, and it drops into the cerulean pool before him. You cannot help but wonder if Satan had made sure to kill that one last, given the angel’s audacity. A consequence. The angel had dared to hold a blade to your throat the moment Satan’s wrath had truly begun to show its face, declaring that he could consider you dead if he so much as moved a muscle, and then --

Then there had only been the flash of pure, blinding rage in his gaze, his demeanor fully stripped of all falsity. The angel’s hand, still clutching the knife, was displaced somewhere in the space before you.

Then there was the ripping of flesh, Satan’s form consumed by the writhing shadows and verdant hellfire of his true self. You had only remained in place when the screaming started, the wails and cries of pain both piercing and distant at once. You did not hide.

Then the blue blood had splattered against your cheek. You had brought your hand to your cheek, as if to make certain that it truly was there. It was warm.

Then the wailing had stopped. The den, once a monotone white, had screamed with the intensity of the hue.

The beast -- no, Satan -- begins to lope towards you at an unhurried pace. His clawed feet click against the floor, each step causing another splatter of cerulean blood to land on his bipedal legs. In moments he stands before you, that writhing, shadow-like flesh drinking in the light from the room. Devouring it whole. He raises a bloodied paw to the side of your visage and cradles it, his claws somehow missing your very vulnerable, soft human flesh. And then Satan is tipping your face upwards towards his. You stare into the verdant hellfire of his gaze.

You do not know if Satan is truly himself at the moment. If he isn’t and has fallen fully into the depths of his wrath, then you have made a grave mistake by refusing to run.

It is a long, long moment. The silence is deafening.

Satan lowers his great maw close to your neck, breathing against it. The acrid scent of blood is nearly palpable. He sniffs it once, as if deciding if you are friend or foe. Produces a sonorous, terrible growl, the sound emanating from somewhere deep in your throat. It echoes in spite of your close proximity to him, perhaps even signalling some displeasure in this bestial form -- but once more you cannot find it within yourself to feel fear. There is only relief. The growl is accompanied by more noises, each becoming more strange than the last, and you lean closer to him in an effort to discern the message. But the pattern only continues. Unintelligible syllables exude from a mouth that is clearly not made for speech.

Satan huffs slightly. Despite your circumstances, you can only laugh at the show of frustration.

Satan’s body -- his blond-haired, green-eyed, fair-skinned one -- tumbles out from the writhing shadows of his bestial form almost moments after you laugh, as if the very sound had coerced it to emerge. You have neither the quickness or strength to catch him as he does, and so your misguided attempt at catching him only leads to him collapsing against you. The force drives you backwards quite severely into the pooled cerulean. You meet the once alabaster floor with a small  _ oof _ , Satan’s nearly insensate body piled on top of you.

“I’d kill … the world for you, you know,” Satan mumbles, regarding you through half-lidded eyes. They do little to belie his exhaustion. “I’d rather do that than lose --”

You silence him with a quick kiss on the nose, doing your best to cradle him close. He burrows into the sensation with a noise of satisfaction. Or perhaps with a groan of unbelievable fatigue and strain from the metamorphosis. Either way, he’s here, and he’s here with you.

“I think you’ve done enough for today,” you remark, teasing. “Let’s go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. Leave a comment, if you would like to.


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